


Sweat, Sex & Alcohol

by captnalbatr0ss



Series: The Captain and his Quartermaster [20]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-24 03:43:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7492137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captnalbatr0ss/pseuds/captnalbatr0ss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rafe has too much beer and too few inhibitions.</p><p>Companion Song: Horns — Bryce Fox</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweat, Sex & Alcohol

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Rafe leaned across the table toward Sam, a little too aggressively.

“This is all your fault.” Rafe was reaching out, tapping Sam on the arm, making sure Sam was listening. “Hey.” His eyes narrowed, more exaggerated than normal. “I’m empty.”

Sam raised a brow. “Babe, you sure you want—”

Rafe leaned back again, slightly off balance. He slid his empty bottle to Sam, crossed his arms. 

Sam pushed back, stood. “Same thing, or…?”

“Whatever."

Sam headed to the bar, grinning. It had taken all day to convince Rafe to go out for drinks, but even for all the work he’d put in, he’d fully expected Rafe to decline. To his surprise, Rafe had relented, had let Sam tuck him in the passenger seat, had even let Sam pick the place.

Rafe wasn’t a beer drinker, but Sam had been buying him rounds all night. And Rafe was on the drunk side of tispy. 

Sam had never seen him like this before. Usually if he drank too much, it soured his mood that much more, amped up his temper. Or put him to sleep. But he was different now than he was when he drank too much liquor.

This side of Rafe—every facial expression was turned up a notch, every motion, every gesture a bit too broad. His voice, gruffer, a little deeper. But still not quite slurred. Oh, Sam was smitten. He didn’t think he could be more in love.

Sam leaned against the bar, picked another beer for Rafe. It was craft night, and Sam had passed Rafe a different kind almost every round, favoring locals over imports. He chose an oatmeal stout this time. Rafe preferred the dark over the light beers so far; he’d told Sam as much, flashing a sly grin. 

_“They’re good, Sam. They’re dark, like my heart.”_

Sam turned, his back to the bar, elbows propped on it, watching his smaller half.

Rafe was looking around the room, his eyes never stayed on one person too long, but he was taking everything in. Always so keenly aware. But Sam knew by now he was struggling just to keep his vision in focus. His eyes were relaxed, lazy, and when he glanced up at Sam from under those heavy lids, when he leaned forward again and offered a loose, wide grin, Sam’s heart swelled.

 _There you are,_ his face said. _I’m happy to see you._

When Sam returned with Rafe’s drink, he sat next to the younger man instead of opposite him. He held the beer out to Rafe, who took it with a shaky grip.

“You good, sweetheart?”

“Mm.” Rafe brought the bottle to his lips, tipped his head back.

“Hey, hey—” Sam reached out, gently taking the bottle back from Rafe. “Not so fast. We got all night.”

Rafe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, clearing this throat. “Mm. Sam?”

“What?”

Rafe shifted closer, wobbled in his chair, and Sam put an arm around his shoulders to steady him. 

Rafe leaned so close, his face inches from Sam’s. Sam wet his lips, eyes instinctively dropping to Rafe’s mouth, that beautiful goddamn mouth. He started to close the distance, unable to resist the urge to kiss Rafe, when Rafe let his forehead fall to Sam’s chest instead.

Sam felt Rafe’s breath through his shirt, felt the soft vibration of Rafe’s voice, muffled.

“You wanna run that by me again?”

Rafe kept his head on Sam’s chest but tilted his head to face away. “You smell good.”

Sam raised a brow, but Rafe was still talking.

“You always smell so fucking good.  _Delicious_. Sam.” He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. “I swear to god. Sometimes I get hard just breathing you in.”

Sam laughed nervously, fighting to keep his composure against the things Rafe’s words were doing to him.

Rafe sighed, and Sam groaned when he felt the younger man press a series of open-mouthed kisses against the skin not covered by Sam’s v-neck. He didn’t notice the hand that Rafe slid down between his legs, not until Rafe was groping Sam through his jeans.

Sam’s eyes widened, immediately looking around, taking stock of the people nearby. But nobody seemed to notice. They occupied a relatively secluded corner, and most of the crowd had congregated around the actual bar. The tables along the wall, where Sam and Rafe sat, were half partitioned, passably private.

“Sam…” Rafe was sliding closer in his chair, twisting just so, slipping one leg between Sam’s. “I want you.”

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat, taking a deep breath and trying to slow Rafe down, gently pushing him back into his chair, one hand firmly on the center of Rafe’s chest. 

“Hey. You gotta quit that. C’mon. It’s hard enough for me to keep my hands off you without you—” Sam lifted his hands, gestured vaguely to Rafe. “Without you being so—fuckin’…” he trailed off, distracted by Rafe, who had slid further down in the chair, one arm dangling uselessly, but the other—the other sat low on his stomach, fingertips gliding back and forth across the waistband of his own jeans.

It was dark in the bar, but Rafe’s eyes were darker.

“Sam. I can do this with you, or without you. Your call.”

“What do you—well holy shit.”

Rafe’s fingers, his hand disappeared, and then Rafe’s eyelids were fluttering, closing.

Sam was frozen, completely rapt, unable to look away from Rafe, from the way he was biting his lip, the way his brow furrowed. But especially unable to ignore to slow, fluid movement of Rafe’s hand down the front of his pants.

One of Sam’s hands found Rafe’s knee, slid halfway up his thigh, pulling his leg closer. His heart hammered in his chest, and it was the loudest thing in the bar, as far as he was concerned. And every now and then he’d hear a soft whimper from Rafe. Sam shifted uncomfortably, painfully hard.

Rafe reached with his free hand, threw back another gulp of beer, dropping his chin to his chest.

“Sam—

“Rafe.” Sam’s voice was unsteady, thick, drowning in lust.

“I want you to kiss me.”

Sam couldn’t turn that down—He scooted his chair closer, took Rafe’s chin in his hand, tipped his head back. His lips hovered over Rafe’s, groaning as he felt Rafe open up for him. He loved to tease Rafe by withholding kisses. Giving the younger man just a taste, a sensation. He knew Rafe loved it, too, because often instead of simply leaning up, demanding more, he would relax, let Sam set the pace. It always made Sam’s head spin.

Sam’s hand slid higher up, angled in, under, groping Rafe’s ass, his thumb toying with Rafe’s balls as he felt Rafe’s hand still moving.

The heat of Rafe’s mouth against Sam’s was enough to send Sam climbing the walls. And each time he felt the catch in his breath, Sam was that much closer to losing control.

Sam’s hand moved to cover Rafe’s through his jeans. He stilled the younger man, just long enough to unbutton and unzip his pants.

Sam glanced up again, his heart was racing. Rationally, he was concerned about someone seeing them. But what Rafe was doing, the way he had Sam feeling, they were anything but rational. 

Rafe’s voice, almost smug as he watched Sam look around. “What is it? No one’s looking.”

“Just makin’ sure.”

“I wouldn’t care if anyone was.” Rafe was licking his lips slowly, enjoying the effect he knew it had on Sam. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Sam’s eyes found Rafe again. “Jealous? You fuckin’ bet I am. I don’t want anybody else seein’ you like this.  _This_ —” His eyes wandered briefly over Rafe’s body. “This is mine. You this way, mine. You. Mine.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed—predatory. A wolfish grin. “Interesting.”

Oh, that sly smile, and the things it did things to Sam.

Satisfied that they still had privacy, more or less, and practically past caring, he turned his attention back to Rafe, who was holding his breath as Sam’s hand took the place of Rafe’s, palming his cock eagerly.

Rafe’s head found Sam’s shoulder again, his breathing was shallow, hungry, and Sam could feel it ghosting against his neck. Rafe was making the most delicious sounds, so soft, so breathless.

“Jesus,” Sam groaned.

“Sam…”

Sam heard the long, steady inhale. A low whine. A sharp gasp.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Sam repeated, the pad of his thumb teasing the sensitive head.

Rafe sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, hips jerking slightly. “ _Fuck_!” Barely a whisper.

Rafe’s fingers dug into Sam’s thigh, held on tight.

Sam teased Rafe expertly, and when Rafe’s eyes widened, when they found Sam’s, Sam met them gladly. He soaked in every detail; he could see Rafe trying so hard to restrain himself, could see how difficult it was for him after having so many beers.

Sam slowed his pace again, returning his attention to the spots he knew were most sensitive to Rafe, taking his time.

Rafe’s jaw was set, tight, as he stifled a curse. His abs trembled, and his thighs.

Sam found a steady pace, working Rafe over from base to tip, increasing pressure on the upstroke, and Rafe broke—the control slipped, his jaw went slack, his eyes closed, pressed shut in an almost pained expression, and his voice came out in a hesitant stutter.

“S—Sammy…”

Sam’s heart skipped. Rafe had never, not once, called him that. His hand slowed, stopped. All he could feel was how hard his heart beat in his chest, how fast. Maybe, he thought, maybe he’d heard Rafe wrong.

And then—

“Christ, I— Oh, Sammy,  _please_ —”

Sam’s throat tightened. He felt himself moving, like he was on autopilot. Like his body was demanding things his mind hadn’t even had time to process yet. He pulled his hand out of Rafe’s pants, tucking him carefully in, sloppily working to at least get the button fastened. 

Rafe was blinking, confused, but before he could question Sam, Sam was pulling him up—tugging him in the direction of the bathroom.

“Come with me.”

Sam lost sight of all else besides Rafe—the people in the bar, the noise, the music, inconsequential. His hands were all over Rafe, his body pressed tight against the smaller man, one arm holding him there, securing him. Sam shuffled them quickly to the bathroom, fumbled with the doorknob. They all but fell in, knocking against the sink, Sam kicking the door shut behind them. 

His hands shook as he worked the lock.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, his face, his posture, that body just begging to be ravished.

Sam’s eyes were dark, hungry. He pressed against Rafe, both hands on Rafe’s hips as he crushed their lips together, a frenzy of tongues and teeth, grinding against Rafe’s hard, demanding.

Sam reached between them, freed Rafe again, tugging his jeans down in one firm motion.

Rafe felt Sam begin to lift him, and he complied without question, his arms wrapping around Sam’s shoulders. When Sam sat him on the edge of the sink, Rafe did his best to adjust his balance, leaning back against the mirror. He watched as Sam’s fingers worked his belt, eyed Sam expectantly as he dropped his own jeans.

Sam shivered, taking a moment to appreciate the sight before him—Rafe, slouched precariously on the cold porcelain, legs spread just enough, one hand lazily pumping his cock.

He moved in front of Rafe, resting one hand on his abs as his other pulled Rafe lower until the edge of the sink pressed insistently against the small of Rafe’s back. He hooked his arms under Rafe’s knees and tugged him down, groaning at the way Rafe’s body angled, practically ninety degrees, the backs of his legs resting against Sam’s chest.

Sam leaned over Rafe, folding him up even more, seeking the smaller man’s mouth again as he lined himself up, drove himself home.

Rafe cried out against Sam’s lips, and Sam kissed him harder. He felt Rafe’s fingers on his shoulders, once again Sam found himself impressed by Rafe’s strength. He didn’t for one second doubt that those nimble fingers would leave bruises.

“Goddamn, Rafe, you feel so fuckin’ good.” Sam rocked his hips forward harder, watching Rafe’s face.

“Ah! Sam! Shit.  _Shit_ —”

“Yeah, baby, you like that?”

Rafe could manage no more than a low groan, a slight nod.

“Hang on to something, sweetheart.”

And Rafe did—he steadied himself, one hand slightly behind him, palm flat on the back of the sink, the other arm outstretched, braced against the wall.

Sam let loose. He straightened, leaning back slightly, both hands gripping Rafe’s thighs, holding them tighter against his chest. His hips hammered into Rafe, his pace was brutal. Rafe’s back was bowed, arched, his muscles taut.

Rafe’s cock was practically weeping, and Sam released his hold on one of Rafe’s legs, fisting him eagerly.

Rafe’s cheeks were flushed, a light sheen of sweat, some of his hair stuck to his forehead. Even in the bathroom, Sam could hear the music from the bar, but Sam was glad of it—glad that he wasn’t having to work to keep Rafe quiet.

“Fuck.  _Fuck_ , that’s it baby, oh— _SHIT_  Rafe.”

Rafe’s eyes were rolling back, his arms were shaking. Between every breath, he was groaning, whimpering, begging.

 _Begging_.

“Sam— _Ah! Goddamnit._  Don’t stop—Sammy,  _don’t stop_ —”

Sam shifted the angle of his hips just enough, knowing right where to aim to push Rafe over, his grip on Rafe tightened, a breath away from painful. 

Rafe was howling. His whole body seized up, spasmed, and he was coming so hard the room was spinning.

Sam grunted, growled, pawing at Rafe’s ass greedily as the younger man rode out his orgasm.

Rafe slumped back, limp against the mirror.

Stars exploded behind Sam’s eyes as he came, thrusting in to the hilt and stilling himself there, filling Rafe up.

He could hardly breathe, could hardly think. The sound of their labored breathing filled the room, loud, heaving panting. The smell, sweat, sex, alcohol.

Rafe’s head was heavy, his limbs numb; he was useless.

Sam carefully lowered Rafe’s legs, still struggling to catch his breath. He grabbed a couple of paper towels, gently cleaning up—first Rafe, then himself.

Rafe’s eyes were closed, every third or fourth breath he let out a soft, high pitched whimper.

Sam steadied Rafe on the sink long enough to pull his own pants back up. Then he pulled Rafe forward, off of the edge of the sink, taking the majority of Rafe’s weight against his chest. He kept one hand on Rafe at all times, to help Rafe balance, leaning down and gingerly easing him back into his jeans.

Rafe’s legs were jelly. He clutched Sam’s shirt tight with both hands, not trusting himself to stand on his own.

He was still reeling. He could hardly keep his eyes open. He looked positively worked over, wrought.

Sam pulled Rafe close, wrapping his arms around Rafe’s chest.

“Holy shit, babe.” His smile stretched from ear to ear. “You, ah… You okay?”

Rafe’s eyes remained closed, but he nodded. The corner of his lips lifted, a grin. He pressed himself tight to Sam’s chest.

Sam smiled when he felt Rafe’s voice against his chest, stroking Rafe’s hair sweetly.

“Still can’t hear you when you do that, babe.”

Rafe sighed, waiting a beat before he leaned back slightly, and Sam loosened his grip just enough to give him the leeway to do so.

“You smell  _so fuckin’ good_ , Sam.”

“Ah, shit babe, don’t start with that again. You’re killin’ me.”


End file.
